Man's fate is in his own hands. Certainly I never met him. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. “You must not think of me as one. " She laughed; and it was pleasant laughter in his ears. “Why on earth did you TELL me?” he cried. “A serious question. Your husband could have told you that. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack.
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